


The Littlest Things

by staymagical



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Baby, Domestic, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-20
Updated: 2015-08-20
Packaged: 2018-04-16 06:27:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4614678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/staymagical/pseuds/staymagical
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A wailing baby leads Arthur to meeting his new neighbor half naked at two in the morning</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Littlest Things

**Author's Note:**

> Just a little oneshot, possibly more.

Arthur considered himself a fairly tolerant man. More than most, if he did say so himself. Having to endure his father's lectures about family values and society norms and honor and strength tended to give him the patience of a monk. Hell, just being the son of one of the most successful business men in the country would do it all on its own.

But if his new neighbor didn't shut their goddamn baby up in the next five minutes, he would be forced to commit murder. Or at least threaten it, but no one needed to know that.

The wailing rose in pitch, ascending through the wooden floorboards and filling his darkened room with just enough volume to assault his last nerve like a vicious boxer set on earning his title. He growled, turning over on the soft mattress and shoving his pillow over his head like soft downy and cotton would be equivalent to soundproof glass. It didn't help.

Finally, he couldn't take it anymore. It was two a.m. on a fucking Saturday night—well Sunday morning now—but it was one of two nights Arthur actually got to sleep. He was not going to let some callous, inept, abusive parenting ruin that.

He threw off the bed covers with a growl, cool night air hitting his warm skin and sending a shiver down his body. Pulling on a pair of sleep pants over his boxers and shoving his feet into his slippers, he made his way to through his flat and out the door, not even bothering to lock it, knowing this trip would be a quick one.

The stairway was cold, the autumn air fresh and crisp as it blew through an open window above. Arthur shivered again and too late, realized he hadn't pulled on a shirt. But he was already half way down the stairs and quite frankly, he didn't give a rats ass what his new neighbor thought of his indecent attire. It was the middle of the bloody night, he had a right to his indecency, especially when their baby that was the reason he was being seen like this at all. He just wanted to sleep.

The crying got louder the closer he got to the floor below. Seriously, how had nobody come a knocking earlier? Surely he wasn't the only one who could hear the blasted baby? As he reached the landing though, he could hear it, softly underneath the infant's constant cries. The gentle beats of a bass and muffled digital tones coming from the floor below. He groaned. Everyone in this bloody building was a nutter or uni student hell bent on living it up to the last, he was sure of it now. Still, he was pleased he had gotten the top floor suite. The perks of his father owning the building.

The baby gave a piercing wail from within the flat. Seriously, were they torturing the poor thing with hot iron pokers?

His pounding on the door, miffed, tired, and half dressed was not exactly how he had imagined first meeting his neighbor.

No response came and after a minute, Arthur pounded again, getting more frustrated by the second. He could hear the baby still wailing out its despair and the muffled footsteps of someone further in the flat, their indistinguishable murmurs reaching out onto the landing where Arthur stood. Finally, when Arthur was sure he was going to be ignored entirely, he heard the unmistakable creak of floorboards as someone approached the door.

As the door opened, the baby's cries now magnified without a barrier, Arthur had his speech ready. He was prepared to berate this ungodly parent and their lack of regard for their child, good first impressions be damned.

But the words died in his throat at the appearance of a young man in the doorway, black hair in disarray, deep circles under his red rimmed eyes and face gaunt with self neglect. If ever there was the perfect picture of distress and anxiety, this man was it. Arthur's heart squeezed painfully, all his anger and annoyance disappearing as if it never was.

"Yeah?" The word was a breathless exhale, filled with all the pressures of someone way over their head.

"Are—is everything alright?" Arthur found himself asking, still a bit stunned by the man's appearance and genuinely concerned now for his well-being despite not even knowing his name.

"I've been better," he said, running a shaking hand through his hair, his shoulders slumped and good god it was a wonder he was still awake, let alone standing. "Look I'm sorry about the noise. I'm doing everything I can."

A particularly loud wail pierced the air from within the flat and the man glanced behind him with a soft curse before dashing back into the depths of the flat and down a hallway.

Arthur stood awkwardly on the landing, not at all sure if the open door was an invitation in or if he should just mind his own business and go back upstairs. But of course his sleep-addled brain had taken that moment to have a lapse in judgment, allowing his heart to commandeer the wheel. He couldn't knowingly in good conscience leave someone in such distress and clearly sleep was something that had been deemed unimportant. He stepped into the flat, but left the door open, just in case.

The layout was different than his own and about half the size. Modest and simple furniture lay haphazardly around the room like the owner had just thrown them about and called it quits, with pictures and artwork hanging from the walls and available surfaces. It looked slightly cluttered and yet there was an air of love and homeliness about the place that instantly made Arthur relax.

The crying got louder then, just before the man appeared from the hallway, gently bouncing and rocking a small swaddled baby in his arms. "Shh, its alright, you're okay. Please, Freya," he pleaded, completely oblivious to Arthur's presence. He looked about ready to cry and good god why did Arthur stay.

"Have you tried feeding her?" The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them, his brain still on strike from being denied its sleep. The man nearly jumped out of his skin, whipping his head up as he pulled the baby closer to his chest. He relaxed back into position once he realized it was only Arthur.

"Yes, and changing her and burping her and singing and warm blankets...everything," he was in tears now, bouncing his torso with stiff numb movements, like someone who had been at it for much too long.

Arthur didn't pretend to be an expert on babies. He wasn't, not in the slightest despite what Morgana teased. But something about this man and his desperation just tugged at Arthur's heart and made him want to do everything he could to help, to ease the suffering. For all of them.

"Here, let me see her." He held out his arms toward the baby.

The man looked at him skeptically, . "You're not wearing a shirt."

Arthur looked down at himself. "Right, uh sorry about that. Slipped my mind."

The man stared him, contemplating, looking Arthur up and down. He looked wary, uneasy like he thought Arthur was set on snatching the child away to run upstairs cackling like a Disney movie villain. He didn't blame him. He would be wary too if he was the man and some stranger was standing half naked in his apartment asking to hold his baby. Probably would have shooed him away by now.

But desperation won in the end and the man stepped forward, passing the crying bundle into Arthur's arms.

Arthur looked down at the crying infant, noting that she couldn't have been more than a few months old. Her hair was of a similar darkness to the man's, skin unblemished and smooth. She was beautiful to say the least, but her crying, it made his heart bleed along with his ears.

"I just, I don't know what to do." The man sounded hopeless, completely wrecked. "I've never cared for a baby before but I'm all she has left, I couldn't just let her be swallowed up by the system. She needs me and I...I'm failing her." He sat heavily on the couch, elbows on his knees and head in his hands.

"You're not failing her, she's just trying to tell you something and we need to figure out what," Arthur said, rocking Freya as he tried to soothe them both.

The man's head shot up then, tear tracks carved down his prominent cheekbones. His eyes were wild with fear. "Oh no, is she sick? Is she dying? Oh god, I need to take her to the hospital."

"Calm down, don't start jumping to conclusions." He placed the back of his hand on Freya's forehead. "She's not warm. I don't think she's sick."

The man sighed in defeat. "I'm an awful godfather."

"She's not yours?" Arthur asked.

"No, she was my brother's." The man didn't elaborate but Arthur hadn't miss his use of the past tense.

An idea popped into Arthur's head then. "Here, hold her for a bit. I'm going to check something." The man stood up, taking Freya back into his arms.

Arthur untucked the blankets from around the small baby, loosening them until he could peel back soft flannel and see her feet. Ah, there. A small hair, dark but almost invisible was wrapped around the baby's big toe on her right foot. Arthur slowly unwound the small culprit, letting it drop to the floor.

The crying ceased, leaving its ghost to ring through Arthur's ears as Freya settled in the man's arms.

The man stared down at her, blinking blearily as though his brain couldn't comprehend what had happened. "How—how did you do that?"

"My sister has a baby," Arthur said with a shrug, tucking the blanket back around Freya. "Sometimes they just get fussy about the littlest things."

A wave of relief seemed to wash over the man then and he nearly sagged into the floor. His eyes met Arthur's eyes then and stuck out his hand, keeping his arm cradled under Freya. "I'm Merlin by the way."

"Arthur." He took the hand and shook it gently, not wanting to disturb Freya. "I live above you."

Merlin released his hand and raised his eyebrows. "Oh, the big high and mighty man on the top floor. Should I be calling you sir or do you prefer your highness." He flashed Arthur a cheeky smile and oh no his heart did not just flip flop.

Caught off guard by the sudden effrontery, Arthur found himself laughing. "Arthur will do just fine."

"Well then, it's nice to meet you, Arthur."

"It's nice to meet you too Merlin. And you as well Freya." He tucked the baby further into her nest of warmth.

Merlin yawned, long and hard reminding Arthur of the time.

He patted Merlin on the shoulder. "You should get some sleep. You look like you could use it."

Merlin nodded, exhaustion evident. "Yeah, I'm completely knackered. Thank you, for everything. And I'm sorry about keeping you up."

"It's alright." And he meant it, he realized. Despite their unconventional and less than ideal circumstances of meeting, Arthur found he liked Merlin. Even if he did have his hands full.

"If you need any help, don't hesitate to ask." He didn't know where the offer came from but he found himself giddy at the prospect of it being taken up. "I'll even babysit a bit if you need a break. That is, when I'm not working."

Merlin smiled, warm and grateful as he walked Arthur to the door. "I may take you up on that. And I'll cook you dinner as a thank you."

Arthur raised an eyebrow. "Is that a date?"

"Only if you want it to be."

He nodded perhaps a little too eager. "It's a date then."

"It's a date."

That night, Arthur slept better than he had in a long time.

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, this shall be continued once I have time and finish my other fic


End file.
